


Taming of the Wild

by BlackDog_66



Series: Football Translations [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, FIFA World Cup 2014, M/M, POV First Person, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3412442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog_66/pseuds/BlackDog_66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Euphoria after the game can be a kind of foreplay. Manuel actually wants to take it slow, but Thomas simply demands more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taming of the Wild

**Author's Note:**

> This is an official translation from a German fanfiction, that has been posted here: http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/53befb87000035e2289ba869/1/Die-Zaehmung-eines-Wildfangs
> 
> I have the permission from the author to translate it and to also post it here. Enjoy the story and visit the original when you understand German :) The story is completely made up and of course neither I nor the original author own any of the people or make any money with this.

* * *

 

The cheers and chants from the fans can still be heard inside the catacombs of the stadium and my euphoria just doesn’t seem to decrease.  Every face I’m looking at is wearing that special smile. It is not just the sheer happiness of a won semifinal, but also the elation at the way we did it. We had been in top condition, everyone had been motivated  and had been in the right state of mind for the game. Still, no one had expected this. Within five short minutes the game had been, palpably and nearly definitely, won. But no one had become presumptuous, instead giving everything they had.

“I still cheered for the third goal, but at the fourth I just thought, what are you guys doing there? They can’t have scored two goals in two minutes,” shaking my head softly, I’m looking over to Miro who is walking by my side toward the dressing room. My words reignite is wide smile and it turns cheeky as he’s looking up to me.

“Must have been quite a sight from your position.”

“That’s actually the only thing bothering as a Keeper; that I can’t celebrate with the team when there is a goal.”

Miro’s slightly turning backwards and smirks over his shoulder. “But at least you’re being extensively besieged after the match.”

I want to follow his knowing gaze, but before I can turn around someone has already jumped on my back.

Lanky legs press into my sides and a distinctive arm loops itself over my right shoulder and across my upper body. The whole stance is stabilized by a hand that’s being slid under my arms. Even before the animalistic shout of joy can penetrate my eardrums, I know who the perpetrator is. With a fond smile I’m looking over my shoulder and recognize Thomas bright gaze. It’s hardly imaginable how chipper he still can be after such an exhausting match, but once you have known him for longer you just know that he has a tremendous power. While I’m thinking that, he’s grasping my left hand with his own, raising it up in the air and bellows: “Finals!”

Bastian, who is already a couple of steps ahead, turns around and walks back toward us. He lays an arm across Miro’s shoulder and lifts his hand high to fist bump our intertwined fingers. Since Thomas doesn’t seem too inclined to dismount, I continue to carry him toward the dressing room. I don’t know if it’s because of my size or his downright featherweight, I just don’t consider him heavy. But then, it wasn’t that unusual for me to carry the younger midfielder around piggyback style; it doesn’t matter whether we’re playing for the national team or for Bayern Munich, it just happens. I’ve never outright complained about it, so, over time, it has simply become our ‘thing’.

When we finally step into the dressing room, Thomas jumps of my back, punches my upper arm and, after he had grabbed his stuff, disappears into the showers. It’s comparatively silent back here, considering the fact that, just mere minutes ago, we’ve been ratcheting up the German and Brazilian fans. Even with our high and rather spectacular win, we made a point to show our spirit of fairplay. The Brazilians have played well and we’ve let them know that; not just our teammate from Bayern – Dante – but also the rest of the Brazilin team. We would have never dared to walk off the pitch with a spiteful grin on our faces or without honoring our opponent’s performance, especially since they were the hosts. A certain kind of respect is just as important as a victory.

~*~

It’s later in the evening and already dark by the time we get onto the plane. We’ve all calmed down some and now see our win in a more clinical way; tactics and mistakes are being discussed. From time to time someone makes a group selfie with their cell phone and the last minutes before takeoff are used to thank the fans back home via Twitter or read the new press updates from Germany. I decided to postpone any of this until tomorrow, today I just want to live the moment and commit everything to memory.

I store my hand luggage in the upper compartment and fall into the seat closest to the aisle. Seconds later Thomas also stows his luggage and, while doing so, stretches out and over me.  With a smile on my lips, my eyes rove over his white tracksuit top, stopping at the tantalizing glint of skin just above the waistband of his pants. I glance up and down the aisle to ensure that no one has seen me glancing at my seatmate like that, but it seems like everyone had been oblivious. They were just glances after all.

With a loud bang, Thomas shuts the hatch and squeezes his way past me to get to his seat. It had to be pure intention when, halfway through, he fell onto my thighs. He lifts himself up a bit to move the last few inches to his own place. With a cheeky grin, he winks at me before he turns his attention back to his smartphone. I squint slightly and slowly slide my left hand in the space between us and, unknown to him, I move it underneath his thigh and pinch it short but hard. Thomas just slightly lifts his thigh and looks at me in irritation. I meet his gaze with a more than obvious look. Softly, but still wearing that smirk, he shakes his head and whispers, “Control yourself.”

Before I can reply, a flight attendant passes by and asks Thomas to shut off his phone.

After takeoff, I do actually control myself, but only because the rest of the team is deeply engrossed in several conversations.  


~*~

When we arrive at our Camp, everyone is, again, smiling brightly. Although this time it’s not because of the victory, but rather because of the dancers who greet us. Music with a heavy beat accompanies their movements and made sure that our gazes are squarely fixed on the barely there material of the dresses. Some of my teammates are clapping along with the beat; while others try to not stare to openly at the women. I’m simply watching everything with an amused smile and nod my head to the beat, when a hand grasps mine tightly. There is a insistent tuck and then I’m pulled behind our bus that is still parked close by.

Before I know what’s actually happening, my back is resting against the rear of the Mercedes. Two warm hands encompass my face and then a pair of heated lips meet mine. The gym bag that had still been on my shoulder, falls to the ground and I slide my hands under Thomas’ arms and across his back. That way I can pull him closer and while his body is now pushing me further back, we’re also stepping out of the weak field of light.

At first I thought that Thomas is simply stealing a soft and shy kiss, but I know better soon enough and I should have known better from the start. Thomas is never shy and he doesn’t steal kisses – he demands them.

The lip movements become more resolute and nearly simultaneously a tongue urges at my lips. Without hesitation I let it in and the kiss turns more passionate and intense. My pulse skyrockets and my blood is rushing in my ears, the kiss is so captivating that I don’t even realize that one of Thomas’ hands has moved from my face and down to my crotch. A soft moan creeps into the kiss. Thomas withdraws his tongue and seals his lips over mine, hoping to stifle my groans. Yet, he never lets go of my lower regions. He’s just as demanding, kneading me through the material of my pants until I press yearningly against his hand.

I open my eyes when I feel a grin against my lips and I’m looking directly into the glinting eyes of my counterpart.

“Stop the games, kid,” I want to emphasize this sentence with the same spark, but I’m no Thomas Müller. Who, in turn, let’s go of me and picks up my bag. I need to take a deep breath and only then can we rejoin the team.

~*~

I place the paperback on the nightstand and, trying to move as little as possible, glance over to my roommate. Bastian is sleeping peacefully, one arm resting on the blanket, while the other was thrown over his head. Underneath the blanket, his tucked up knee is barely visible. He seems to be sleeping deeply right now, so it’s time for me to move. I get out of bed and make my way across the room, stopping now and then when I make some noise to check whether or not he’s still sleeping.

I slip out of the room unnoticed and, quickly, walk over to the workout pavilion. The door is ajar, one of Thomas’ shoes is holding it open. With a smile, I pick up the blue shoe and let the door fall close behind me.

My steps lead me through the building and a ray of light from the dressing room shows me the right direction. I push the door open and find Thomas inside, leaning against the locker, wearing just his shorts and smirking wickedly.

With a shake of my head and the same soft smile that I’ve been wearing since entering the pavilion, I throw the shoe at him. “You’re assuming a lot.”

Thomas catches the shoe, only to let it fall to the ground. “Don’t pretend as if it doesn’t drive you crazy, Manu.”  

I step closer, but Thomas is quicker, so that he crosses the distance between us faster than I expect. Just like before my lips are conquered by him with a demanding kiss. I can feel his tongue playfully nudging mine, fighting for dominance.

But this time I’m not staying passive, my hands caress his shoulders, slip over them and to his chest, down his abs and finally stop at his waist to hold him tight and pull him closer – to show him just how much I want him.

Just like my hands can’t stay still, his don’t either. They caress my upper arms, down my sides and pull at my shirt. I break the kiss only to get rid of the t-shirt and soon it joins the shoe on the ground. Just like on the pitch I’m one step ahead of my opponent, because now it’s my turn to reach for his crotch and squeeze.

A groan echoes through the room and I can’t refrain from saying, “Control yourself.”

Thomas’ amused laugh interrupts the moan, still he lets his head fall back and presses into my hand. In turn my hands slide down the leg of his shorts, pulling slightly. It doesn’t take much and the material slips down his lanky legs.

Thomas steps backward and settles down on the bench, one leg on either side of it, offering me free sight of his bulging erection. He’s looking at me with barely restrained anticipation, waiting for me to act. Even though Thomas is a jumpy tomboy, one look from me can tame him. He’s still demanding and tenacious, but he lets me hold the reigns.

I pull off my own shorts and sit down opposite from Thomas. He’s following my movements closely, as if he does not want to miss a single one. I move closer until our knees are touching and then I bend forward to meet Thomas halfway until our chests are also pressed together. Our lips meet again in an intensive kiss, passionately hot and sinfully wet.

My hands glide over his thighs, raising goosebumps along the way and making him whimper into the kiss. The reaction of his body is irresistible and I need to continue the teasing. His hands mirror mine, getting closer to my groin, but they don’t stroke inward, instead continue on outward and to my waist and back again. I break the long and intensive kiss and look directly into Thomas’ lust blown-eyes.

I place my hands in the hollow of his knees and pull his legs closer to me, so that his thighs are resting over mine. We’re now so close together that our shafts are barely touching. A groan erupts from me, which Thomas echoes with closed eyes. Due to his new position his legs have lost their purchase and are now dangling behind my calves.

Looping my left arm around his back, I pull him closer still and spread wet kisses from his chin down to his collarbone. Thomas’s hands move idly over my back, causing my skin to shiver in anticipation. His fingertips trace the outlines of my ribs. I break the line of kisses to watch his closed eyes. His lips are slightly open and tremble with every moan.

When he realizes that there are no more kisses, he opens his eyes and looks up to me. He smiles wickedly and moves closer, causing our shafts to touch anew, which was his intent all along. One of his hands slips away from my back and lets it rest against the side of my member. An aroused moan escapes my lips as I imitate his movements with my hand. Our fingers intertwine and with our thumbs we hold our erections close together.

Thomas shivers in arousal. It’s something I can clearly feel, because he presses his knees into my sides and it seems like this opens the floodgates, because I can’t suppress a moan either. A demanding kiss from Thomas casts me back under his spell, gets my heart racing and, at the same time, steals the air from my lungs. The moment our tongues meet, our hands start to slowly move up and down. They are a unit as they move, as they increase our desire for each other. Everything around us becomes unreal, the only thing that counts right now is the intoxicating kiss and the alluring motion of our hands.

The more passionate our kiss becomes, the more aroused I get. My free hand moves to his neck and I press his lips tighter against mine. I want more from him, more and everything.

I can’t tell which one of us is trembling more. The skin to skin contact between us is that intense and our caressing hands are heightening that feeling.

When I can feel the first drops of pre-come smoothening the friction of our hands, Thomas bites my lower lip and holds it prisoner. The small nibble elicits another groan on my side and immediately raises me up to his level of arousal. His knees are pressing harder and harder into my sides and my legs too loose contact with the ground.

There is an incredible erotic tension in the air around us, when, for the last time, Thomas presses even closer. His hands cling to my shoulders and with a hoarse yell he reaches his orgasm. He doesn’t break the contact between our lips, so his hot breath continues to mingle with mine. A liberating shiver passes through my body as I reach my own climax. I place my forehead against his shoulder and, with a relieved wheeze, the last burst of come find their way between us.

Our breaths are still coming in fast gasps, and since my head rests on his shoulder, I can see his chest rising nearly frantically. I loosen the grip of my hand and lift my head, turning it slightly to look directly at Thomas. There is an indescribable twinkle in his eyes and his lips are still trembling faintly. When I blink, said lips warp into a wide smile. He slides his arm across my shoulders and kisses me.

My own hands don’t stay idle and brush over his back and finally come to rest on his shoulder blades. I enjoy the kiss, because this time it’s him who’s demanding again. When we finally stop kissing, we also break apart.

Thomas is the first one to move, reaching for a towel that he probably placed there previously, and starts to clean himself. I refuse to get up, letting Thomas do all the work.

I reach for our shorts and my shirt and, as soon as we’re dressed again, walk toward the closed door. Thomas is leading the way, but before he reaches for the doorknob he turns around to face me, his stunning lips again grinning widely. But I can’t really interpret the smile, so I lift my shoulders and ask a baffled, “What?”

Thomas laughs perkily as he replies, “Nothing, Manu. I just thought that you probably would have loved to score as well.”

 

The End


End file.
